


Trainhopping n. The illegal act of riding a train without a ticket

by ArtemisDax



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Diagon Alley, Ficlet, Gen, Hogwarts, Hogwarts Express, Hogwarts Letters, Hogwarts is Home, How Do I Tag, Ilvermorny, International Confederation of Wizards (Harry Potter), MACUSA | Magical Congress of the United States of America, Statute of Secrecy (Harry Potter), The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27210898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisDax/pseuds/ArtemisDax
Summary: The summer before middle school, Becca receives a letter. It does not come on her 11th birthday, and it is not from Hogwarts. Becca thinks she has an idea to fix that, besides, what the hell is an Ilvermorney anyway?Alternatively, Hermione Granger cooks up a technically-not-illegal way to fix the Wizarding Britain population crisis. Rita Skeeter finds her true calling, Minerva Mcgonagall gleefully aids and abets, and Minister Shackebolt looks the other way.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

The letter did not arrive on her eleventh birthday. It was not written in green ink, the seal was black, and there was no train ticket. Nevertheless, the letter did arrive.

It was high summer, and it arrived in her mailbox, like hundreds of other letters before it, for all that it seemed inordinately fancy. Becca had to read it four times before it all sank in. 

Dear Ms. Rebecca Evertt, 

We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance to Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Becca’s blood felt frozen in her veins, at least her heart was pumping hard enough to be pushing ice. She couldn’t tell if she was happy or sad. She had stopped believing in Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the tooth fairy long before her friends. But she had kept this little sliver of hope alive longer than anyone else. After all, her lunchbox was always icy cold, even when her father forgot to add the ice pack. Her bean plant had been the only one that sprouted even though the janitor had forgotten to water them over the long weekend. And lost things always seemed to reappear in the back of her closet. So when all her friends said they weren’t looking for their letters this summer, Becca volunteered to get the mail every day. But the letter looked wrong. _What in the world was an Ilvermorny?_

There were four sheets of paper, although the letter looked as flat as all the others she retrieved every day. One _(wrong)_ acceptance letter, one supply sheet that at least contained the Standard Book of Spells, a blank sheet that felt fuzzy in Becca’s hands, and a letter addressed to her parents. She read that one too.

Dear Mrs. and Mr. Evertt,

We are pleased to inform you that your daughter is being offered a place at our school for the next seven years. Ilvermorny has a storied tradition and stellar reputation that stretches back centuries. As you may have guessed, we have a somewhat unusual curriculum. To assuage any concerns we have enclosed an enchanted parchment that will turn any color that the person holding asks it to. We will also be holding an orientation on July 13th for students born to No-maj parents. Please join us at the Atlanta downtown library branch at 10:00 am.

Becca picked the fuzzy blank paper back up and looked at it with interest. “Red!” She said clearly, then “Blue,” followed by “Puce.” It was a very obliging paper. Dad was locked up in his home office, and Mom wasn’t due home for another three hours. Best to wait. Becca climbed the stairs and booted up her computer. She opened a browser and typed ‘Ilvermorny’ into google. There were no real hits, just a few suggestions for a restaurant in Washington called Ilver’s. Becca frowned. The wizards in the Harry Potter books were always so bad with technology. Next, she tried ‘real school of Witchcraft and Wizardry’. The first ten pages were filled with useless nonsense about people trying to break into old Scottish castles. She was about to turn the machine off in disgust when she pulled out the letter again. “The Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk,” Becca read to herself. Carefully putting the supplies list on her desk next to the keyboard, she walked over to her bookshelf and pulled out Sorcerer’s Stone. She flipped through the pages until she found her list’s counterpart. “The Standard Book of Spells by Miranda Goshawk, even the spelling is the same. That can’t be a coincidence.”

Becca sat back down at her desk and stared at pages upon pages of wrong hits. She cleared the search and stared at the blank white rectangle. “One more try,” she decided. This time, ‘1lv3rm0rny’ brought a handful of hits. The second one looked promising. It was in the YouTube comments section of a clip of Harry’s sorting. “1lv3rm0rny rulz! Pukwudg13s forever!” Becca read. “Huh.”

The sound of the front door opening made Becca close the browser quickly. “Hi Honey, hi Becca!” Her mother called out from the front hall. 

Becca raced down the stars, envelope carefully held in both hands as her father opened the office door. “Hello, Sweetheart! How was your day?”

“Long,” Mom replied. 

Becca skidded to a halt in front of them. “I got my letter today!” She said gleefully, thrusting it into her father’s hands. Her mother was still busy putting her keys away in her purse.

“Who is it from?” Dad asked in confusion as he examined the envelope.

“Not _a_ letter,” Becca sighed. Really they should know what ‘my letter’ meant. Everyone had been talking about it since the books went through fourth grade two years ago. “The letter. _My_ letter!”

Her mother caught on first, despite not being the one in custody of the item in question. “Hogwarts isn’t real. Julia is playing tricks on you again.”

“Just keep reading!” Becca insisted.

“It says it's from a school called Ilvermorny,” her father said slowly. “Something about an orientation and a color-changing paper.”

“That's the red one,” she explained. “It really works, try it!”

Her father rolled his eyes, but handed the rest of the pages to her mother. “Lime green,” he commanded dryly. The paper almost glowed the color was so bright.

“Holy shit,” commented her mother, glancing between the invitation and the proof of honest to god magic.

* * *

It rained the morning of July 13th in downtown Atlanta. There was only one other family waiting in the back corner of the library. There was a strange woman waiting with them, and the family stayed a careful distance away from her huddled in a tight little knot. The lady didn’t wear robes, Becca was quick to note, but she did have a long cloak-cape thing that Becca had never seen outside the movies. Becca dragged her parents towards them almost tripping over her feet in excitement. “Hi!,” she waved excitedly at the witch.

“Good morning young one. My name is Ms. Bellenova. Now that everyone is here, we are going to take a quick trip to orientation.” She pulled out a medium-sized hoop that didn’t seem like it could have been hidden under her cloak.

“I thought this was the orientation,” protested the father of the other family, holding his son’s hand tightly.

“Unfortunately, there aren’t enough of you to hold an orientation in each state. This is the day for the southeastern United States. Don’t worry, you might get dizzy, but traveling this way does not hurt. We’ll serve lunch, and have you back in this spot before the library closes at five,” Ms. Bellenova said.

Becca was the first to grasp the hoop, and the boy did the same across from her, a look of determination on his face. _That ones going whether his parents will or not,_ Becca thought. Her Mom’s hand brushed hers on the smooth wood, with her Dad closest to the teacher. The boy’s mother cracked first, her hand jerking out to clutch the wood in a death grip. The father was the last, but grabbed on too. Becca was planning to pay attention to how the miniature hula hoop worked, but everything happened too fast. There was spinning, and she was incredibly dizzy, and suddenly they were in a medium-sized hall filled with seats. There was a raised platform at the front, and several adults dressed like people out of a costume drama, but not one that she had seen before. A strange mix of familiar and strange. One wore sneakers, an old fashioned suit, a cloak, and a blue Yankees cap.

Their guide ushered them to a row, as more and more families filled the room. Perhaps twenty, and nearly a hundred people. Many had older or younger siblings who looked nearly as excited as the people her age. The professors at the front of the hall began conspicuously performing magic, passing out pamphlets and conjuring images out of thin air. Most of the presentation passed in a blur for Becca. Cauldrons, wands, school uniforms, different magical creatures. It was like stepping into a world that you almost knew, your living room rotated ninety degrees. Little things kept popping out at her, wand movements, goblins, a picture with a letter carrying owl in the background. Nothing that directly contradicted the world that lived in her heart. When it was time to return home she paid careful attention as her hand closed onto the glorified hula hoop. For half a heartbeat a hook jerked at her belly and Becca _knew_.

Her parents sat at the table to look over all the different packets they’d been given. Supplies, customs, guidebooks. Becca ran up to her room and looked at the calendar over her desk. She pulled a red marker out of the can on her desk, and Becca carefully circled September 1st. _11 am, Platform 9 3/4, King’s Cross. Fifty days left. No forty-eight to make it to London, find Diagon Alley, and buy supplies. The Ilvermorny people don’t start until September 21st anyway, and my supervised shopping trip isn’t until the 17th._

A full two weeks of wheedling, begging, and crying before her mother broke down. She had always loved fantasy books, and read Harry Potter to Becca when she was little. Dad grumbled, but agreed. “I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise. Why don’t you just write the Ilvermorny people and ask about it?”

The local AAA had a map of London, and Becca poured over it. Charing Cross Road is the key. Almost a mile long, from Oxford Street to Trafalgar Square. Becca outlined it in green. “The Leaky cauldron should be somewhere here. It will probably take half a day to search the entire area, but it's findable. Change muggle money at Gringotts and buy basic supplies. I can owl order anything I miss. Oh and sneak onboard a magical train, make it to the castle, and get sorted. Hopefully, they won’t throw me out after that,” Becca giggled nervously.

* * *

The morning of the 31st dawned, and Becca had never felt so nervous and excited. Her stomach churned. Dad had insisted on spending yesterday at the British Museum. She only had today. It was now or never. Her map was clenched in her hand, edges crumpled and creases beginning to wear. It was covered with little red dots clustered around the green line. Twenty three likely locations along Charing Cross Road. Her parents followed as she walked slowly north from Trafalgar. Becca carefully scanned both sides of the street, sparing a glance for the other pedestrians every few steps. Nothing stood out for twenty minutes, until she had nearly reached Tottenham Court station. “It's fine,” Becca told herself under her breath. “You didn’t expect to find anything on the first pass. It's probably off one of the side streets.” But just as she could see the sign for the underground in the distance Becca nearly collapsed. Just a few paces down one of the side streets on her right was a familiar sign. There wasn’t much traffic this early, so Becca darted across the road, her parent’s startled shouts barely audible through the cotton in her ears. She pressed her nose against the glass heart pounding as she waited for them to catch up. They wouldn’t be able to get through without her.

Becca held her mother’s hand, and Mom held Dad’s hand as she stepped into the Leaky Cauldron for the first time. _Don’t be conspicuous, just a lazy muggle-born doing last-minute shopping. Don’t draw attention…wow._ It was dark and a little dirty, but it was absolutely beautiful. It was only a few seconds she could spare, and Becca followed a witch with a small child moving to the back of the pub. The bricks ground together in the little courtyard and Diagon Alley sprawled before her. She hummed to herself under her breath and almost missed the piece of parchment stuck to the left side of the archway.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

1\. Three sets of plain work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear 

3\. One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils’ clothes should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk 

_A History of Modern Magic_ by Hermione Granger

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginners’ Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Tremble

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS 

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

THE HOGWARTS EXPRESS LEAVES KING’S CROSS FROM 

PLATFORM 93/4 11 O’CLOCK ON SEPTEMBER 1ST

Becca stared at it a moment before scrambling to pull out her note pad from her backpack full of exploring supplies. Along with the pad, it included a sacrifice of every page on Diagon Alley and the Hogwarts Express from all five of the books from her own collection. She had cut them out with an Exacto knife and stapled them into a little packet. Snacks, another map of London, all her birthday money from forever freshly changed into pounds, and a little leather bag. Her parents had crowded around to look too. “Just like at the grocery store. The local school supply list. Wizards really aren’t so different.”

“We need to find Gringotts,” Becca declared, marching off down the alley. She could see the marble gleaming in the sunlight in the distance.

“Remember our deal,” Dad said. “Mom and I will buy the wand, potions supplies, and duplicate textbooks. All Hogwarts specific things you’re on the hook for.”

Becca saw Mom give him an amused glance, but Becca continued to a free goblin in her best accent. “We need to exchange some muggle money.”

The goblin looked bored. “Would you also like to open an account? There is a three percent change fee without one.”

“Not right now,” Becca replied and received a heavy pile of gold, silver, and bronze for her pouch.

Flourish and Blotts first, Becca decided, marching down the street. The shop boy sniggered a bit at her when she first spoke, but made no comment otherwise, directing them to the back wall, which held a wide array of textbooks. He even cast a featherlight charm on her backpack, ‘until you get a trunk kid.’

Potion supplies, robes, and a wand that made her blood sing and lit up in Olivander’s shop with a warm light.

She sat on her bed that night turning her wand in her hands. Even if nothing else works out I will always have a real Olivander wand. It made Becca smile.

An early breakfast, two trains, and a taxi and Becca walked through the doors of King’s Cross at 10:45. They found the barrier, and she surreptitiously passed her hand through it. A brunch at the food court, and finally, finally, Becca saw the Hogwarts Express. Steam curling through the air, and students already starting to pile on, but mostly talking in small knots on the platform as their parents gossiped. She set her trunk on the ground next to a growing pile of luggage and turned to hug her parents. “Good luck, Becca,” Mom said.

“You have your galleons, pounds, passport, and hotel address,” double-checked dad.

Becca nodded.

“See you tonight,” he said wryly. “Hope all this is worth it.” He ruffled her hair when she nodded.

_Even if this far and no more, it's been worth it._

Becca kept expecting to be challenged, her accent wasn’t very good, and she had no ticket. She was a stowaway. But no prefects came to check her ticket, and she even met another boy with a suspiciously Australian sounding voice. Neither wanted to address the obvious.

But the steam engine chugged along and night fell. Nothing happened. They changed into their robes. At least those looked real enough. Nothing. Hogsmeade station, Hagrid, and boats. Becca savored the sight of the castle on the hill, windows ablaze.

_Even if this far and no more, it's been worth it._

They climbed the steps and entered the great hall. The hat sang, and no one counted the students. McGonagall sat in the headmistress’s seat, and a young man that Becca didn’t recognize read the list of names. Her heart hammered. But Something strange was happening. They were in the w’s and there were still nearly forty extremely nervous-looking kids huddled with Becca. The professor reached a Zambini, and stopped, rolled up his scroll, and clapped his hands sharply. “You lot, line up in alphabetical order, two minutes!” He called out.

Becca ended up being five people down, and stood nervously behind a girl with very long hair. She seemed very excited. “Hey, what's going on?” Becca asked.

“Oh we made it, don’t worry,” the girl said.

“What?” Becca said weakly.

“I’m a half-blood My cousin did this two years ago. You Ilvermorny? Once you’re here no one can send you back. Relax and enjoy your sorting!” The girl babbled, standing on her tiptoes to wave at someone at the Ravenclaw table.

Becca’s hears slowed down a bit as the line moved forward and people were sorted. Adrenaline slowly draining out of her bloodstream, Becca sat down on the stool.

The young man smiled down at her. “What's your name sweetheart?” He asked.

“Rebecca Evertt,” she said faintly.

“Rebecca Evertt,” he repeated to the hall loudly before dropping the hat onto her head.

 _Hello,_ she thought cautiously.

 _Always interesting sorting the trainhoppers,_ mused the hat. _One would think you’d all be reckless Gryffindors, but no. Smart enough to figure it out on your own, loyal enough to want to come here, brave enough to actually do it, and clever enough to get away with it. But you, look at how you found us, so meticulous._

 _Slytherin,_ begged Becca. _You said we were all clever. I want Slytherin!_

 _Drat Granger for putting that idea in all your heads. Fine._ Slytherin!

The hall erupted in noise from the table far on her right and Becca looked up at the starry ceiling. _Home. At last._

_* * *_

_1998_

Junior Assistant to the Minister Hermione Granger sat across the desk from Kingsley. He held his head in his hands the report from Hogwarts spread across his desk.

“Only thirty-five new students this year. The lowest we’ve ever had! Damn the wars, they’re still killing us,” Kingsley said tiredly. “Three generations of war. We won’t recover from this in a century.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, sir,” Hermione said carefully. “I might have an idea. How would the Wizengamot feel about taking in more muggle-borns?”

“Some would find it distasteful, but everyone knows we’re desperate. But Granger, where the bloody hell are you planning to get more muggle-borns, kidnapping?”

Hermione thought about the seven diaries sitting on her bookshelf in her flat. “No, not kidnapping. Just leave that part to me. Hogwarts will take them?”

“Of course,” Kingsley said in confusion.

_* * *_

_1999-3_

_2000-10_

_2001-15_

_* * *_

_2002_

Assistant to the Minister Granger once again sat across the desk from Kingsley. “There is an argument to be made that your little stunt is a flagrant breach of the Statute of Secrecy. The ICW has noticed where all their muggle-borns are disappearing off to. MACUSA in particular is calling for your head. They say everything about this is illegal. You’re sending professors to watch London for arrivals, and registering them in the middle of Diagon Alley for Merlin’s sake! You can’t have Hogwarts transfer pamphlets in international bookstores!”

“They are muggle fiction books, like hundreds of others. Besides, that was Rita Skeeter. And transferring schools is rare, but has precedent. Some British pure-bloods regularly send their children to Durmstrang after all. Muggle-borns have the right to choose as well,” Hermione argued.

“You're going to need to stop combing London for them, that's the deal. They can’t force us from accepting any that come here. But they can insist that the aiding and abetting stop. The other governments have already gotten rid of your ‘admissions materials.’ Officially this can’t be sanctioned anymore.”

Hermione nodded sharply and stood to leave. “I’ll owl McGonagall. She won’t be happy about children wandering aimlessly around London, but I have faith in them. They’ll still find us.”

“Granger!” Kingsley called. “Thank you.”

_* * *_

_2004_

“When I told you that the recruiting had to stop, I didn’t mean move it to the muggle internet,” Kingsley sighed. “I don’t think the ICW has found it yet, but we had 100 transfers this year.

“Oh that isn’t me,” Hermione said smugly. “They’re doing this all by themselves!”

“Take it down.”


	2. Blatant Loophole Abuse

_1998_

Junior Assistant to the Minister Hermione Granger sat across the desk from Kingsley. He held his head in his hands the report from Hogwarts spread across his desk.

“Only thirty-five new students this year. The lowest we’ve ever had! Damn the wars, they’re still killing us,” Kingsley said tiredly. “Three generations of war. We won’t recover from this in a century.”

“I’ve been thinking about that, sir,” Hermione said carefully. “I might have an idea. How would the Wizengamot feel about taking in more muggle-borns?”

“Some would find it distasteful, but everyone knows we’re desperate. But Granger, where the bloody hell are you planning to get more muggle-borns, kidnapping?”

Hermione thought about the seven diaries sitting on her bookshelf in her flat. “No, not kidnapping. Just leave that part to me. Hogwarts will take them?”

“Of course,” Kingsley said in confusion. Hogwarts takes all magical children on the isles."

“Anyone who is here?” Hermione confirmed."

Kingsley nodded, mystified.

_* * *_

_1999-3_

_2000-10_

_2001-15_

_* * *_

_2002_

Assistant to the Minister Granger once again sat across the desk from Kingsley. “There is an argument to be made that your little stunt is a flagrant breach of the Statute of Secrecy. The ICW has noticed where all their muggle-borns are disappearing off to. MACUSA in particular is calling for your head. They say everything about this is illegal. You’re sending professors to watch Heathrow for arrivals, and registering them in the middle of Diagon Alley for Merlin’s sake! You can’t have Hogwarts transfer pamphlets in international bookstores!”

“They are muggle fiction books, like hundreds of others. Besides, that was Rita Skeeter. All I did was give an interview and provide background materials. What she did with them is all her. And transferring schools is rare, but it happens, sometimes even in the middle of someone's schooling. Some British pure-bloods regularly send their children to Durmstrang!. Muggle-borns have the right to choose as well,” Hermione argued.

“You're going to need to stop combing London for them, that's the deal. They can’t stop us accepting any that come here. But they can insist that the aiding and abetting stop. The other governments have already gotten rid of your ‘admissions materials.’ Officially this can’t be sanctioned anymore.”

Hermione nodded sharply and stood to leave. “I’ll owl McGonagall. She won’t be happy about children wandering aimlessly around London, but I have faith in them. They’ll still find us.”

“Granger!” Kingsley called, “thank you.”

_* * *_

_2004_

“When I told you that the recruiting had to stop, I didn’t mean move it to the muggle internet,” Kingsley sighed. “I don’t think the ICW has found it yet, but we had 100 transfers this year.

“Oh that isn’t me,” Hermione said smugly. “They’re doing this all by themselves!”

“Take it down.”


End file.
